


Free Falling

by LynyrdSkynyrd



Series: EZZELIN [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdSkynyrd/pseuds/LynyrdSkynyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I need you.</i><br/> </p><p>Nobody needs him now. He has failed everyone. But how can he dwell on it while there are still people standing in front of him to reduce the pain of every blow thrown at him? He owes them and he owes them to stay strong and fight back. So Messi is dead, so their only hope is gone. What? Cris is still breathing and as long as he has enough air in his lungs and a drop of strength in his body, he will not stop.</p><p>Maradona will pay for what he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Falling

**2 Years Later**

Young girl pushes her back against the cold, wet wall like she wants to be one with it. Her pretty face is wet from tears and her big brown eyes are almost blood red now. Her dark brown hair is messy, sticking to her forehead with sweat. She is wearing combat boats, dark grey pants and a black vest with dark green t-shirt. Her fingerless glove covered hands holding a sharp looking, silver knife tightly but she doesn't look at anywhere particularly. She has no power left to fight.

There are only 5 of them left.

Only 5.

How did they fail so bad?

Against the other wall, leaning a young man, with tall, muscular figure and dark hair. He looks exhausted but worst part is, he looks dead inside. No, that's not the right way to put it, something is eating him inside. He is hurting.

There is a reason for his pain.

He's failed.

Everything is his fault. The death of his comrades, Maradona's rise and Messi's death. He was so fucking stupid for leaving him alone with a fucking Runnar.

Agüero.

Oh, how did Cris want to tear him apart, piece by piece. After Messi's death, Cris wanted to hunt him down. But later, all his anger faded away.

It doesn't matter anymore. Because Cris failed and Agüero killed Messi which caused Maradona's reign to continue and his attacks only got more brutal. With Messi being gone, Maradona had no reason to feel threatened. So he attacked to destroy this time. Duende failed and Maradona tore their souls apart from inside. His swamp witch drank their bloods.

It was hauntingly scary.

And in the end only 5 of them left standing.

Cris, Gerard, Iker, Xavi and this young Silhavar, Mirtla.

_It's not over yet, don't lose your hope._

His dark eyes open widely all of a sudden. He knows that voice and--

No, he must be dreaming. There is no way he can hear that voice again. After all, it's his fault that he will never hear _him_ speaking again, that little soft speaking Argentine boy. Now his mind is playing with him, striking to damage his mentality. He shouldn't be surprised.

He tortured himself with the idea of failing their saviour, the next Ezzelin that his every thought was filled with the skinny Argentine since that misfortunate event. That's why he can't look anyone from their little group in the eye, even though he didn't make a sound for long enough to unofficially declare himself mute, he took all the blame on himself silently.

“Cris.” Iker says softly, he is trying to stay strong. He _is_ strong. But he is also very tired and it's getting to him. There are dark circles under his eyes, his always perfect looking hair is messy and there are cuts on his face and arms. “You should sleep.” Yeah, Iker and Xavi need sleep more than any of them. They are working non-stop since M--

They must be very tired.

Cris hasn't looked at the mirror for a long time but he can imagine what he looks like. The last time he combed his hair was before their last encounter with Agüero (which was the day the next Ezzelin died), he lost weight and he is tired to death. His clothes are dirty with sweat, mud and blood.

“I can't.” He says through his teeth.

“Cris--”

“I can't.” He says, averting his gaze away from Iker's kind face. He can't tell thr truth while looking into his leader's eyes. He is a Silhavar, he should have been stronger than this. After all, men die everyday. This is a war. But was Messi just another man? “I can't close my eyes.” He confesses. “I can't sleep because I don't want to.” He says simply because how can he explaim why is Messi's death haunting him to Iker? Even he doesn't know what makes him care so much. Apart from Messi being the next Ezzelin, of course. But there is something else that makes Cris want to punch something like an indefatigable boxer. Guilt? Maybe.

“I know.” Iker says assuringly. “But you need to sleep at some point. We need you.”

 _Do you,_ he wants to ask.

“Okay.” He says because he doesn't want Iker to worry about him, he already has enough problems. “I will try.”

“Good.” Iker says, smiling softly like a true leader would do in this strange and hopeless situation to give his solders confidence and hope. He turns toward the young girl who is leaning against the damp, cold stone wall with her bangs covering most of her pretty face. “Mirtla, you, too.”

“But, sir--”

“Go to sleep.” Iker says firmly. “You have been so brave. I am lucky to have someone like you by my side. But you can't be strong unless you give your body some time to heal. Be a true Silhavar, a warrior, and think logically.” Young woman seems deep in thoughts, considering her options and what her master just told her.

Finally, she nods.

“You are right, master. I will sleep for 4 hours to gain my strength back so you can sleep after me. I will make sure nothing disturbs you.” Her dark eyes shining with admiration and determination. She is a brave young woman who always has been loyal to Iker from a young age. Iker found her 2 weeks after her parents died. She was 5. She proved to be a smart kid, good at strategies and a fast thinker. Iker always thought she would become a great Silhavar one day. But he couldn't imagine her becoming this strong, loyal, independent and clever young woman. He couldn't ask for a better warrior.

Mirtla gets a blanket from their heavy backpacks and throws one at Cris dutifully. Cris catches it in the air and unfolds it. He doesn't want to sleep at all but Iker is right. He must sleep if he wants to be useful. But he doesn't think he can.

He sighs and lays down.

It's going to be a long night.

 

 

After all, he does sleep.

But his sleep isn't peaceful and he doesn't sleep for so long.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, shivering terrible. Cold sweat running down his forehead. First, he thinks he heard something and that Maradona's army are coming after them to finish what's so little left from their resistance. But soon he realizes what woke him up was a nightmare. He can't call it a nightmare, it was just.. weird and disturbing. Mostly containing colors and vivid images with background voices. He was falling but never hitting the ground. At some point he wishes he crushes hard enough to break his bones so he will no longer hear the voice, only focusing on his pain while his soul slowly fades from the face of Earth.

_Follow my voice._

He shakes his head to get that voice out of his voice. He doesn't need it. He punishes himself enough already.

_Don't lose your hope._

How can he not? Everyone died. Because of him. And he stands alone in the middle of the battle ground, dead bodies of his comrades surrending him, blood covered small hands grab his biceps, yelling something to him but he can't hear anything.

He forgets every detail aside from the dead bodies, haunting eyes and blood. Lots of blood. Later, his memories come back to him, piece by piece, and he remembers it was Mirtla who saved him from getting slaughtered by Maradona's witch.

He should have thanked her.

He did not.

_I need you._

Nobody needs him now. He has failed everyone. But how can he dwell on it while there are still people standing in front of him to reduce the pain of every blow thrown at him? He owes them and he owes them to stay strong and fight back. So Messi is dead, so their only hope is gone. What? Cris is still breathing and as long as he has enough air in his lungs and a drop of strength in his body, he will not stop.

Maradona will pay for what he did.

And Cris will finally join Messi and his friends on the other side after leaving a mark in Maradona's New World.


End file.
